


Discarded Lace

by blacktithe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktithe/pseuds/blacktithe
Summary: The friendship between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was the stuff of legend. You had always known they shared a special connection, you just didn’t expect it to eclipse your own.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	Discarded Lace

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for two challenges on Tumblr  
> Kari's Let's Be Blunt Challenge: my song was "How It Feels To Be Alive"  
> Star Spangled Bingo: Free Space
> 
> This was betad by my dear friend Julia. I love you to the moon and back darlin.

Raindrops pattered against the window while the TV in the living room droned on with the same story that had consumed the headlines for the last two days. 

CAPTAIN AMERICA - FUGITIVE

It was everywhere. Newsstands. TV Broadcasts. Radios. Everyone was jumping at the chance to chronicle the Star-Spangled Man’s fall from grace. What they all failed to mention, was what he was leaving behind.

A dull ache formed behind your left eye. Dragging in a slow deep breath, you forced yourself to look away from the screen. You pushed aside the gossamer curtain to better see the world outside. The night was surprisingly still for New York. The city that never sleeps seemed to be in a coma. It was like seeing her favorite son being forced to flee had damaged her like it had you. 

The buzzing of the phone on the table beside you drew your attention. Glancing over, you saw Tony’s name light up the screen and quickly turned away. He’d called you a thousand times that day. You’d stopped listening to his voicemails after the third one. You’d had all you could stand of voicemails for a lifetime.

Coming home to an empty apartment hadn’t been so bad. You usually beat Steve home in the evenings. It gave you time to take care of a few things before starting dinner in hopes that it would be ready by the time he came home.

You were just putting the chicken breasts and vegetables into the oven when the phone had started to ring. The caller ID showed a number that you didn’t recognize. Not that it was anything unusual. Members of the press periodically got a hold of your number and tried use you as a gateway to interview Steve. So you let it go to voicemail and went to move a load of towels from the washer to the dryer.

Thirty minutes passed. You ran the nail of your left pointer finger between your teeth, summoning every ounce of willpower you had not to start nibbling on it. It wasn’t like Steve to be this late without calling. Even if he was suddenly taken away on a mission, there were protocols in place that allowed you to be notified he was going away and when he expected to be home.

Reaching for your phone, you saw the little voicemail icon flashing ominously at the top of the screen. A slight tremble ran through your fingers. Forcing the growing cloud of doom from your mind, you pressed play and listened as your world turned upside down.

Y/N. 

Steve’s voice sounded clearly through the speaker, but it wasn’t the usual easy tone you were used to. There was a weight to it, a sadness that never came from something good. 

I’m not coming home for a while. There are going to be a lot of things said about me in the next few days. Just know that I love you, and I’m coming back for you as soon as it’s safe. I promise. I love you.

It would have been less painful for him to have reached into your chest and physically removed your heart with his bare hand. You’d almost prefer it to the hollow ache that now consumed your being.

You looked away from the window and down to the glittering solitaire on your left hand, twirling the ring absentmindedly around your finger. A tear made its way down your face, and you brushed it away angrily.

Steve wasn’t coming back. The less than subtle agents camped across the street ensured that. Steve said he would come back for you when it was safe, but it never would be. Not as long as they were watching you. You were Steve’s weak spot, and everyone knew it. Well, you and Bucky.

A dry humorless laugh escaped your lips at the thought of your fiance’s best friend. You knew how much Bucky meant to Steve. How many times had he said he wished he could stand beside him on your wedding day? How many stories had he told you about growing up together in Brooklyn? 

You shook your head from side to side before tilting it back in hopes of stopping the tears that were stinging the backs of your eyes. Bucky Barnes meant more to Steve Rogers than you ever could. He’d collected your heart like one of those cheap trinkets you find in a roadside attraction just to throw it away the moment Bucky called. You were just a stopover on his way back to his best friend, and nothing would ever change that. 

Letting the curtain fall back into place, you shut off the TV and made your way into the bedroom. A large white garment bag hung from a hook on the back of your closet door where you had placed it after returning from your final fitting just a few days before.

“Can I see it?” Steve asked as you placed the hanger on the hook.

You turned to him with a playful smile. “No. It’s bad luck.”

Steve took you by the hand and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you so that his hands rested at the small of your back.

“I thought it was only bad luck if I saw you in it.”

You shrugged. “Why risk it?”

Steve chuckled before leaning in and placing a tender kiss against your lips, the adoring look he gives when he pulls away melting your heart.

You scoffed at the memory. That look had been a lie. It had all been a lie.

Dragging the zipper down, a plethora of white spilled from the bag. You ran your hands along the delicate fabric. Pain like an arrow shooting through your heart ripped at your chest. You were supposed to wear this for him on Saturday. Two days from now, you were supposed to be standing in front of a minister, promising to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of your lives.

You shook your head in disbelief and pulled the dress off of the hanger. It took you a moment to find your way through the yards of fabric and delicate buttons. Fastening the last one in place, you moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror hanging on your wall.

“Steve would have loved this.”

The floor-length off-white silk flowed in elegant lines down your body. The sweetheart neckline and pearled lace sleeves had been modeled after a style that had been popular in the 40’s. You’d spent hours imagining the way his eyes would light up when he saw you walking down the aisle. His eyes would glitter with tears as you floated towards him like a vision from the past.

You clamped your eyes shut, trying to hold off the tears, but it was no use. All of the fight had gone out of you. You barely had the strength to crawl into the bed, still clad in your dress, before the tears began to fall.

You clutched Steve’s pillow to your chest and breathed in the woodsy, citrus lined scent you knew so well. 

You cried for what felt like hours. All of your pain and grief being carried away by the salt tears no staining the pillow. Your dress was going to be rumpled, but you didn’t care. There was no point anymore. Steve had left you behind to chase after his friend yet again, only this time, you knew it would be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments.


End file.
